


A Very Cunning Plan

by eeyore9990



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Time, HP: EWE, Life Debt, M/M, One Shot, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-23
Updated: 2008-05-23
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5866153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eeyore9990/pseuds/eeyore9990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Narcissa has a plan to bring respect to the Malfoy name once again. Her plan? Harry Potter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Very Cunning Plan

"Mr Potter. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

Harry smiled reassuringly at Narcissa Malfoy, his voice soothing as he said, "No, thank _you_. I'm the one who owes you a life debt, Mrs Malfoy—"

"Oh, please, Mr Potter, call me Narcissa. I don't know what I would have done if you had said…" She drew a ragged breath, lifting a silk handkerchief to the corner of her eye. "I've been so worried. I was simply _certain_ you would be too busy to attend me." While her face still had that thin, slightly pinched look that somehow reminded him of his Aunt Petunia, her eyes made her seem helpless. So large, so blue, so filled with a tremulous hope that…

Harry blinked. Looking down, he pretended to fidget with the cool glass of water the waiter had dropped off, dragging his finger through the condensation that had rolled down the glass and pooled around the base. Turning his head, he used only his peripheral vision—poor though it was when not looking through his corrective lenses—and concentrated on the woman seated across from him. 

_There. A slight waver over her eyes. Clever witch._

Turning back to Narcissa, Harry looked at her with a new vision. Knowing it was there broke the glamour, though only he was aware of it for the moment. He traced designs in the wet surface of the table as he decided what tack to take now.

_Honesty. Start as you mean to go._

" _Mrs Malfoy_." He pitched his voice low and hard, startling her. "I've been manipulated my entire life by better people than you. Drop the act, _now_ , or this meeting is over."

Narcissa blinked rapidly a few times before all emotion leached out of her expression. Finally, a small smirk curved her lips. "Far more astute than you're given credit for, aren't you, Mr Potter?"

Harry didn't reply, simply stared at her for a long moment, his fingers drumming impatiently.

"Let us begin again, shall we? Why did you agree to meet me, Mr Potter?" Her eyes narrowed and Harry had the same sense as when Snape would look at him. He was being judged by a very shrewd and intelligent mind… and being found wanting. He silently cursed his inability to effectively block against Legilimency and made sure to keep his gaze slightly averted.

Taking a drink to stall for time while he arranged his thoughts, Harry finally swallowed and said, "Let's just say I don't want to spend any more time than necessary with a life debt hanging over my head."

"And you feel you owe me a life debt?" One perfectly shaped eyebrow rose.

"It's a fact, Mrs Malfoy—"

He was cut off with a wave of a manicured hand. "I really would prefer you address me as Narcissa."

Harry narrowed his eyes on her and said baldly, "Why? What does it matter to you what I call you?"

"I would like for there to be a perception of friendliness between us at all times. While it would not be outside the realm of possibility for me to refer to you as Mr Potter, from all accounts you are very familiar with those closest to you. The new Minister, for example."

Harry blushed at her slightly censuring tone. Clearing his throat, he nodded and said, "Well, I _do_ owe you a life debt. If you hadn't lied that night, I would surely have been killed. There is also the fact that you placed your life in danger to protect mine—"

"I did no such thing!"

Harry stared at her. "What do you think would have happened if someone else had been ordered to pick me up? If… if I'd been overcome with the urge to sneeze or cough or…"

Narcissa's eyelids slid down in a slow blink before she tilted her head and gave him a smugly superior look. "Forgive me, Mr Potter, but I am certain I was more familiar with the way the Dark Lord's mind worked than _you_."

Harry sighed. "No, I don't think so." Raising his hand at her look of anger, he said, "We shared a… link. I was intimately familiar with the way his mind worked." A shiver of disgust travelled down his spine as he recalled the mewling form he'd seen in the King's Cross Station of his afterlife.

"Indeed?" Narcissa drawled, the bored sound so reminiscent of Lucius' that Harry had to fight the urge to look around. Speaking of which…

"Does _Mr_ Malfoy know that you're here with me?"

Narcissa's expression hardened and the hand that had been holding her handkerchief fluttered slightly to show the tip of a wand peeking from beneath the white silk. "What Lucius doesn't know could only hurt you, Mr Potter. Any thoughts you may be having of blackmail would not be well received."

Harry let out a sharp sigh of irritation. "I have no intention of blackmailing you, _Narcissa_. If you'll recall, you asked for this meeting. I was eager to meet with you to resolve my debt to you, but _you_ have no reason to suspect _me_ of any foul-doing."

Narcissa sat back in her chair, her spine still painfully straight, but something about her posture suggested she was as relaxed as she ever became. "I have not discussed today's meeting with Lucius, though my husband and I have managed to continue communications even as I am no longer… We share owls when possible but he knows nothing of my plans to meet with you." She lifted a napkin to her lips, patting gently though Harry could see how uncomfortable she was with the topic. She had only recently been released from Azkaban herself, and the thought that her husband would spend the rest of his life there must be lowering, indeed.

Harry pushed back the momentary twinge of pity he felt for her. He wondered if that was so easy to do because she reminded him uncomfortably of a cross between Aunt Petunia and Bellatrix Lestrange or because she was married to a man who had tried to kill him… Huh. He couldn't believe he'd managed to lose count of how many times Lucius Malfoy had tried to kill him.

Probably at least as many times as Draco Malfoy had attempted it. 

Harry glanced at his glass of water to avoid Narcissa's gaze, suddenly uncomfortably aware of just how willing her whole family had been to see him dead in the past. He raised a hand to the neck of his tee shirt, stretching it a bit as he tried to breathe normally.

Dragging his mind away from such matters—in case he gave her ideas—he sucked his lower lip into his mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully before he said, "So why are we here? Lucius didn't send you, obviously." Unless she was lying about Lucius knowing where she was? "What is it that I can do for you?"

Narcissa tapped one nail against the table top and pursed her lips for a moment before she said, "You are correct, Mr Potter."

When she said nothing further, Harry searched his mind for what he could possibly have been right about. Ah, the life debt. "I suspected as much. Especially when Dumbledore confirmed it for me," he added dryly, garnering a shocked look.

"Dumble—but how?" A tiny thread of fear wove through her words but she quickly squashed it as she straightened her shoulders and said, "Ah, his portrait. Yes, I can imagine that's been a wellspring of information for you this past year."

Harry glanced away. He _wasn't_ ready to speak about such things yet.

"However," Narcissa said lightly, pulling his attention back to her, "inasmuch as you were correct, and inasmuch as you would like to settle your debt, I have given thought to what could possibly even things between us."

Harry sat forward, hooking his feet around the bottom rung of his chair as he whispered, "What?"

"The Malfoy name has long been revered in our world, almost as much as the name of Black." Harry startled at that, Sirius' grinning face flashing briefly across his mind's eye. "The respect of generations cannot be brought down by the recklessness of a handful of my family's members. I won't allow it." Her chin rose a few inches and Harry had the idle thought that she should be wearing a tiara atop her elegant coiffure. 

"To settle the debt that lies between us, Harry Potter, will require that you ensure the future of the names of Malfoy and Black. They will be great once more, or your life will weigh heavy in the scales of justice." The power of those words washed over Harry and without asking, he knew that an ancient magic had been invoked.

_Well, fuck._

~*~

He twirled Narcissa around the ballroom, wincing against the flash bulbs going off throughout the room as he valiantly held onto his polite smile.

"Is it working?"

"Time will tell, Mr Potter."

"How _much_ time?"

" _That_ is still to be determined." Her voice cracked like a whip, drawing him up stiffly as the music came to an end. He stepped back and bowed, thinking how ironic it was that he'd managed to learn to dance only because of his recent need to partner the ever-elegant Narcissa Malfoy around the dance floors in the homes of the upper echelon of wizarding society.

"Draco has a hearing tomorrow at the Ministry."

Harry's head snapped around to look at her so suddenly he caught a crick in his neck. Trying to hide the slight discomfort, he held his arm out for her and spoke through his teeth. "Why didn't you tell me before this?"

"The Ministry hasn't changed, Mr Potter. I am only surprised that they didn't wait until five minutes after the hearing started to inform me of the time."

Harry blinked slowly to cover the irritation sparkling in his eyes. Leading Narcissa toward the refreshment table, he said, "I'll be there."

"Do you think it wise?"

"I've given countless interviews, I've attended more parties than any straight man should—" He stopped to pat Narcissa solicitously on the back as she choked slightly on her drink. "I… where was I? Oh, it doesn't matter. I'm running out of ideas, Narcissa."

Her hand landed on his arm and he looked down at her to see a far softer expression than any she'd ever before granted him. "You've done more than I truly expected, Mr Potter. While I realise it hasn't been easy—and that it wasn't done merely from the kindness of your heart—I am…" she tilted her head, a small line forming between her brows as she considered and discarded several words before settling on a slightly surprised, "grateful."

Harry sighed, barely managing not to roll his eyes. She may have merely married into the family, but Narcissa had the Malfoy attitude down pat.

"What time is Draco's hearing?" he asked, selecting a few hors d' oeuvres from the table while Narcissa plucked a glass of champagne off a tray floating around at waist level.

"The missive said nine o'clock." 

Harry could hear the doubt in Narcissa's voice and mentally resolved to be there three hours early. Ugh. Six o'clock in the morning was too early for anything, much less a hearing at the Ministry. But he'd be there. He'd promised to help Narcissa and he couldn't in good conscience allow Draco to be kept in Azkaban for crimes he hadn't been able to bring himself to commit. 

Harry shook his head at his own thoughts, finding it unbelievable that he was willing to actually help Draco Malfoy. The world had become a strange and unusual place…even by wizarding standards.

~*~

Harry stumbled through the Floo into the lobby of the Ministry, slowly shuffling toward the Registration desk, patting his pockets for his wand with one hand while he smothered a yawn with the other.

Six o'clock. Why was he here again? Surely no one in their right mind would move a meeting back to this time, even the most vindictive—

"Harry?" 

Harry turned, blinking sleepily as he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt striding quickly toward him. As he drew closer, Harry could see a few new lines Kingsley's face, a product of the responsibilities he had as Minister for Magic. Harry attempted to smile, but before he could think how to make his befuddled muscles move in the correct pattern, Kingsley spoke, his voice low and rumbling.

"It _is_ you. I wouldn't have thought… Harry, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

Harry nodded, unable to respond vocally as he was currently beset with another yawn. 

Kingsley took his arm in a firm grip, steering him past the security guard who barely glanced up—it was _six in the morning_ and surely even villains had to sleep?—and tugged him into the first office he came to.

Pulling out a piece of paper, he unfolded it and handed it to Harry before saying, "How true is this?"

Harry scrubbed his hands up his face, knocking his glasses onto his forehead, and pressed his fingertips into his eyelids. He massaged his tired eyes, reset his glasses, and blinked several times to clear his vision before he was able to focus enough to read what appeared to be a mock-up of the Daily Prophet. No, scratch that, it _was_ a mock-up of the Daily Prophet. A Special Edition. Oh, hell.

Harry Potter and Narcissa Malfoy: Are Wedding Bells in Their Future?

Harry set the paper down and took his glasses completely off, smiling strangely at Kingsley as he muttered, "Bloody things are so dirty…"

"Harry, if it's true—"

"It's _not_! My God, Kingsley, what… I mean… Argh, it's too damned early in the morning for this!"

"Harry." Kingsley laid his hand in the middle of the newspaper, stopping Harry from picking it back up, though he could still see himself smiling down at a loving-looking Narcissa. His stomach twisted painfully as he wrenched his gaze away to look back up at Kingsley. Best not to look at the paper again before he'd been fortified with several cups of tea. "Harry, why are you here?"

"I…" Harry gulped. This was going to sound simply _awful_ in the face of that article. "I've come for Draco Malfoy's hearing."

Kingsley sank into a chair, rubbing one hand over his bald head as he stared at the ceiling. "But, _why_ , Harry?"

Harry scowled down at his rather poorly kept dress shoes. There were several scuffs at the toes and along the heels… likely from where he'd stepped on them to take them off in the past. "I owe her, Kingsley."

"Harry, I know about your testimony after the war. How she was indirectly responsible for you staying alive. But—"

"No. There is no 'but,' sir. I owe her a life debt. The least I can do is ensure that her family not become the outcasts the world would like to see." Harry shrugged. Narcissa hadn't told him not to talk about their arrangement, but he still felt, in some small way, that it was a violation of her trust to discuss it with Kingsley, Minister or no. Speaking of which…

"Oh, erm, sorry. I know I should be calling you Minister now and not by name, but—"

Kingsley waved that off. "I've seen you nearly naked seven times… at once. I think we're covered."

Harry startled at that, then grinned and ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. "Yeah. Still, I need to start remember these things."

"From what I gather, you always had difficulty addressing those with titles. But don't worry about it; I certainly don't. What I do worry about is _this_ ," he said, gesturing again toward the paper. "How much of it is true?"

Harry shook his head, scowling again. "None of it. I've been receiving these invites since the dust settled at Hogwarts enough to declare a victory. I simply thought that if I took her with me, they couldn't deny her entrance to these functions. The Malfoy name isn't exactly well-loved at the moment."

"It isn't just the functions and the dancing, Harry. You've been talking about nothing but Narcissa Malfoy in all your recent interviews, as well."

Harry spread his hands helplessly. "I don't know what else to do. I want to clear the debt, Kingsley."

The other man sat back and nodded, his mouth set in firm lines as he thought for a long moment. Finally, he grabbed the paper off the desk and said, "Don't say anything yet. Come with me to my office; you can use the Floo there to Fire-call Mrs Malfoy and let her know of the newest developments. I'll use some pressure to get the Prophet to hold off on running this until we can come up with some way to stop them completely. It would help if you were still dating Ginny Weasley."

Harry tried not to make a face at that pointed statement. Everyone loved the heroes that had emerged from the aftermath of the final battle, so much so that Ginny Weasley had been unable to decide just which one she wanted. Harry, not ready to settle down into the life of a sheepherder in Lancashire, had carefully urged her to follow her heart… as long as her heart was leading her into Neville Longbottom's arms. 

"That would be difficult. She married Neville last month."

"Oh. I'd forgotten, Harry. I'm, ah, sorry if I brought up…"

Harry waved him off, shaking his head. "No, no, it was fine. Really. I wasn't ready to settle down and I don't think we were that well suited, regardless."

"Right. Well, let's Floo from here to my office and you can use a secure network connection to make that Fire-call."

Harry nodded and waited for Kingsley to open the Floo connection to the Minister's office before stepping in and whirling off.

~*~

Harry and Narcissa left the Ministry that afternoon victorious, Draco's release forms from Azkaban signed and sealed by the entirety of the Wizengamot. Before Harry could speak to congratulate Narcissa, however, she turned to him and said, "I have one more errand to run. If you don't mind, I would appreciate an escort."

Harry blinked, but nodded. When he asked after their direction, Narcissa simply smiled secretively and led him to the Ministry Apparation point. 

"I'll Side-along us, shall I?" Narcissa murmured before wrapping her arm around Harry's waist and spinning them.

When Harry opened his eyes after travelling through what felt like the eye of a needle, he was looking at the entrance to the offices of the Daily Prophet. His own lips curved up into a devious smile then and he looked down at Narcissa, wondering what she had in mind. She simply adjusted her robes, smoothed her hair back over her shoulders, and gestured for him to open the doors for her. 

Jumping forward, he did so, and followed her into the building and through a maze of hallways until they found Rita Skeeter's office. Anticipation built within Harry as they entered; he was waiting for the amazing set-down he knew was coming. What happened instead was a shock to his very system.

"Ms Skeeter. So wonderful to see you again, darling."

Harry's mouth dropped open as Narcissa did a weird, rich-lady embrace with Rita Skeeter and kissed the air on either side of her cheeks. 

"And so soon after our last meeting, too," Skeeter said, playfully tapping Narcissa on the arm with a rolled up parchment. She winked extravagantly and flicked a dismissive gaze over Harry before saying in a carrying whisper, "So… did it work?"

Narcissa's gaze hardened for a moment on the parchment in Skeeter's hand before her lips curved into a generous smile—one that didn't reach her eyes—and she laughed lightly. "Like a charm, my dear. Like a charm. Should we agree on a date for delivery of your reward?"

Skeeter's lips pursed and she looked down at her desk, where a similar mock-up to the one Harry had seen lay atop several piles of paperwork. "Or, I could give this to my editor and purchase my own with the proceeds."

Narcissa's smile turned so cold it sent chills down Harry's spine. "My dear, do be careful who you attempt to blackmail. No designer will touch your feet with a ten inch wand if I threaten to take away _my_ business. The deal has been made and you _will_ uphold your end or life will become _quite_ difficult for you."

Harry felt something a bit like sympathy for Rita Skeeter when he saw a touch of fear flash through her eyes.

"Of course I wouldn't do that!" Skeeter said with a sharp, nervous laugh. "Really, Narcissa—"

"Mrs Malfoy."

Rita Skeeter swallowed with difficulty and said, "My apologies. Mrs Malfoy, then. I was merely… joking. Yes." She coughed lightly against the back of her hand and visibly attempted to regain her confidence as she tossed her head and said, "Well, then, I can take delivery of the… merchandise… either here at the office or at my Personal Owl Box."

"Then our association is concluded for now. It was a… pleasure… working with you," Narcissa said, and with a wave of her wand, the mock-up on Skeeter's desk burst into magical flames that didn't affect the desk or any of its other contents. "Come, Mr Potter. I'm sure Ms Skeeter has other things to be doing. We shouldn't take up anymore of her time."

Harry just nodded, dumbfounded at the whole scene he'd just witnessed. _Never_ had he seen anyone cow Rita Skeeter; not even Dumbledore, himself. Harry half-heartedly nodded to Skeeter before quickly following Narcissa from the room and then the building. 

As soon as they were on the sidewalk in front of the Daily Prophet, Harry waved his wand around them, giving them a bubble of privacy so that their conversation would not carry to random passers by. 

"You did that?" he asked, anger warring with confusion. "You were behind that article?"

Narcissa looked at him blankly for a moment before she smiled strangely and said, "Of course I was."

"But… _why_?! Why would you do something like that?"

Narcissa tilted her head at him and came to a stop, right there in the middle of the sidewalk. "Mr Potter, let me give you a very brief lesson on human motivation as it pertains to the wizarding world. The instant the first member of the Wizengamot saw that little bit of skilfully conjured fiction, they rushed to warn the others and nearly immediately a hearing was scheduled to review Draco's little _situation_."

Harry shook his head, not following.

"Imagine, if you will, what would happen if those headlines had even a modicum of truth to them."

Harry sighed. "I'm sorry; obviously I'm missing something here. Just tell me how that helped us."

Narcissa's lips tightened for a moment before she said, "The thought of the Wizard Who Lived possibly having a future step-son incarcerated in Azkaban did not sit well with the members of the Wizengamot. By fostering that perception in their heads, I was able to successfully achieve my aims; namely to see my son free from a prison sentence he did not deserve."

Harry did his best to keep his face blank of emotion; he did _not_ want Narcissa to know that he didn't quite feel as positive as she did about Draco's innocence. However, he had to give her credit. As she had told Skeeter, it had worked 'like a charm.' The Wizengamot had released Draco on good faith. He was free. Harry, however, was beginning to feel the noose tightening around his own neck. 

How complicit was he in this? It had been his name in connection with Narcissa's that had made the Wizengamot move so quickly. And now that Kingsley had used pressure on the Daily Prophet, Narcissa had a smooth out. It would look like Harry had used his friendship with the Minister to have the article suppressed. "What about Lucius? You're still married!"

"Yes, but as easily as a wand can be waved over a release order from Azkaban, so can an annulment be granted."

"Does he know?"

"I saw no reason to inform him. But _had_ he known, I'm rather certain he would have approved. A means to an end, Mr Potter, that's all it was. Try not to worry yourself over it; you'll develop lines."

"How long have you been planning this? Since the beginning? The first time you approached me about settling my life debt?"

Narcissa smiled faintly. "Mr Potter, if you will recall, you are the one who has directed our movements to this point. I simply became frustrated with our lack of progress a few days ago and had the solution literally land on my doorstep. You have no idea of the power you wield in our society… Harry. I saw nothing wrong with using that to our advantage. After all, the sooner your debt to me is paid, the sooner you can be free of our association."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, troubled. "Mrs Malfoy—" At a sharp look from her, he amended that to, "Narcissa. It isn't that I don't enjoy spending time with you, but I'm beginning to… Well, I've just started wondering which came first, I suppose."

"How do you mean?"

"Did Lucius teach you all the fine intricacies of manipulation… or did _he_ learn it from _you_?"

"Mr Potter, if my husband had listened to me _more_ and to that upstart Half-blood _less_ , he would not now be in Azkaban."

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, I can see that. Don't be offended, but I think you might just be scarier than Voldemort ever was."

For the first time in recent memory, someone _didn't_ flinch when he spoke Voldemort's name. Narcissa, instead, smiled warmly and leaned in to whisper, "Of course I am, dear. Which is why you should work very hard to ensure you never disappoint me." She pulled back and searched his features before releasing peals of laughter that brought an actual tear of mirth to her eye. She pulled a lacy handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed the corner of her eye before she calmed enough to say, "Oh, Mr Potter, the look on your face. It is absolutely priceless."

Harry felt a wobbly grin form, which took so much effort that all he could summon for words was a feeble little, "Heh."

"Now, Draco should be arriving home to the Manor momentarily—"

Harry immediately felt guilty. "Oh! I wanted to be there when he was released—"

"Are you _mad_? From this moment forward, erase the word Azkaban from your vocabulary. You will not speak of it in connection to my family and you will not go there for any misguided reason whatsoever."

Harry blinked at her, confused. "But… I thought it would be good publicity for Draco if I were there supporting him when—"

"No, no. Your first public appearance with my son will show Draco to his best advantage. Fresh from a prison cell is _not_ his 'best advantage.'" Narcissa shuddered, her face twisting with revulsion before she went on. "Tonight you will spend by yourself planning how to reintroduce Draco to a society that hates him in such a way that they will embrace him, and by extension the Malfoy name, once again." 

Harry's head hurt just attempting to follow that sentence, but he nodded anyway. He hadn't been completely joking when he'd said she was frightening. Actually, he hadn't really been joking _at all_. 

"Floo to the Manor tomorrow morning at nine o'clock sharp." A flick of her wand had the Floo address of the Manor written in elegant, standard script on a creamy calling card. Harry plucked it from the air and shoved it into a pocket of his robes, listening intently to her instructions. "When you arrive, we'll have breakfast and you may renew your acquaintance with my son."

Harry barely managed to refrain from grimacing at the thought of spending any time with Draco but he supposed he wouldn't be able to completely avoid it if he was expected to help Narcissa bring respectability back to the Malfoy name. Forcing a smile, he nodded and said, "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Nine o'clock," she reminded him before turning on the spot and Disapparating.

~*~

Harry stepped out of the Floo, trying to hide a smug smile at how smoothly he'd done that. He brushed at a bit of soot on his shoulder and looked around, suddenly aware that he wasn't even sure he'd stepped out at the right grate. He'd only been to Malfoy Manor once, when they'd been captured during the hunt for the Horcruxes. He hadn't been to the Manor at all since they'd embarked on their quest to return honour to the Malfoy name; Narcissa had been quite adamant that they give no hint of impropriety in their actions over the past few months.

_No, because she wanted to be the one to spring it on a small sampling of their unsuspecting public._

Harry twitched a bit at the snide thought, but he couldn't deny even to himself how troubled he was at how easily she had twisted events, how easily she had drawn him into her game. Even if it had been a means to an end, he wouldn't forget it. And he wouldn't be so quick to trust again. 

He became aware then of the overwhelming silence of the ostentatious receiving room. Again the idea that he might have missed his grate came back to him and he was about to call out when Narcissa appeared in the doorway. 

"Harry, darling! You've arrived!" _Harry, darling?_ What was going on here? "How remiss of me not to be here to meet you. I do apologise. I'm running quite a bit late this morning—it was a long night," she said with a pained smile as she brushed her fingers against her forehead. "Do you mind fetching Draco for me? I let go our house-elves when I returned… when I returned," she finished flatly, her lips drawing into a thin line. She still couldn't speak about her own time in Azkaban; Harry wondered what she and Draco had found to talk about the night before.

He thought about her request for a long moment. What could she possibly be after, sending him up to get Draco? Was it to make him feel like a servant?

"Do hurry, dear. We have planning to attend to!" Narcissa said with a small smile before turning to leave again. 

"Planning? For what?"

Narcissa paused and turned back to him, her lips curved up at the corners ever so slightly into what was, for her, a smile. She didn't ever allow much movement of her face; something about lines. "Why, for Draco's return to society, of course. I believe we should go a different route this time than the endless parties and dancing you seem to favour. No offence intended, Mr Potter, but I simply do not believe that made much difference to the public's perception of the Malfoy name."

Harry flushed and looked down, scuffing his toe as he tried to think of some way to respond to that. She was right, of course. Regardless of how much time he spent with her, how many times he forced wizarding society to accept her, they still hadn't changed anything in any real way. 

Harry sighed and nodded. "What do you think we should do?"

She smiled coolly and said, "First, I think we need to secure Draco's presence."

"Oh… yeah. Where is he?"

"Third bedroom on the right at the first floor. Use the main hall stairs. Just knock; he has had more than enough sleep." Narcissa smiled distractedly and hurried from the room as quickly as she'd entered it, leaving Harry staring after her bemusedly. 

"But where is the main hall?" he muttered. Stepping out of the receiving room, he looked both ways down the large corridor and decided to go left. Too often he'd chosen to go right and look where _that_ had got him. In the middle of Malfoy Manor, standing in for the now-unemployed house elves. "Brilliant."

Surprisingly enough—or not, depending on how one looked at it—left took him directly to the main hall. He looked around himself as he stepped into the airy, elegant entry and immediately felt completely unworthy. Which was likely the effect the architects and designers had been hoping to achieve. 

Harry looked at the grand staircase and thought briefly that Narcissa must have been crazy to call them 'the main hall stairs.' These were a masterpiece of woodwork, curving and elegant, gleaming with centuries of careful maintenance. He swallowed roughly as he placed his foot on the bottom step and a shiver went up his spine.

_Voldemort must have used these._

Shaking that thought from his mind, Harry nevertheless tightened his grip on the railing as he climbed upward. The ceiling on the ground level was at least twenty feet high—or seemed like it—so it was several long moments before Harry was able to reach the landing. Turning right, he walked to the third door and rapped on it.

After several seconds of silence, he knocked again, a bit louder. As soon as he'd done that, he pressed his ear to the door, listening intently for any sound on the other side of it. Wondering if maybe Draco had already left his room—and not a little bit curious about what it might look like—Harry eased the door open.

Complete darkness greeted him. For an instant, he wondered if someone had dropped a bit of Peruvian Instant Darkness powder in here, but the light from the hallway spilled through as normal, it just didn't penetrate far enough for Harry to see anything of note in the room. 

Chewing on his lip in a moment of indecision, Harry finally took a steadying breath and pushed the door open farther and slid his toe over the invisible line that separated the hallway from the bedroom. Once he'd encroached that small bit, the rest of his body just had to naturally follow. It was only right; where one's toes went, one's body must, as well. It was probably a law of physics or magic or something. Harry would have to remember to look it up later. For now, he was quite happy to cast a soft _Lumos_ and explore to his heart's content.

The room beyond the dim glow of his wand tip was… well, it was _huge_. Everything Harry had envisioned and more. The bed was big enough for Hagrid to rest easily on, no matter which way he laid; the furniture was tasteful, but large enough to not be dwarfed by the bed. Three broomsticks—they would have been top of the line the previous year—were propped up in one corner below a cage containing an array of Snitches. The Snitches appeared to be sleeping for the moment. 

There were no posters in the room; nothing as crass as that. Instead the walls were some pale colour, indeterminable in the near twilight of the room. The carpet under Harry's feet kept him from making any noise and seemed to nearly swallow the soles of his shoes. Harry tested the springiness of the flooring under it, taking a few steps in either direction, waiting for a squeak or a creak. Instead, all he heard was the light breathing that came from the vague lump in the bed.

Draco.

Harry drew a deep breath. He'd seen Draco from a distance the day before, at the hearing, and it had been… odd. While Harry had expected the other boy to be changed by his time spent in Azkaban, he hadn't anticipated the reality of it. Where Draco's hair had been longish the last time Harry saw him—he tried to block the memory of the Fiendfyre overwhelming Vincent Crabbe—it now hung several inches past his shoulders. Or rather, it had yesterday. Perhaps he'd cut it in the hours since Harry had seen him?

The shadows under his eyes and along his jaw line—bruises, apparently—spoke of his descent in status far more poignantly than the rags he wore for clothing. He'd sat slumped in his chair, his hair falling forward to shield him. That small act had brought tumultuous thoughts of Severus Snape to mind, and Harry had been hard pressed to actually pay attention to the proceedings.

Thankfully, the High Mugwump had called his name then, making Harry start, and he'd stepped forward to offer his quiet but sincere support of Draco. The decision had taken a ridiculously short amount of time then, and Harry had sighed with relief, leaving the courtroom—which still made him uncomfortable for the memories it evoked—with all possible haste.

Shaking off the morose thoughts, Harry walked over to the wall of curtains, grasping the two middle ones before flinging them apart. Bright sunlight burst into the room, filling it with the colour that the dim light cast by Harry's wand had not been able to reveal.

Harry looked over his shoulder to see that Draco hadn't been affected; he was literally buried in blankets. With a slightly malicious smile, Harry walked over and grabbed the bundle, yanking them as a whole off the sleeping form beneath.

Draco hissed and rolled over, causing Harry to quickly avert his gaze, a blush rising up to stain his cheeks. Apparently Draco liked to sleep in the nude. He cleared his throat and made vague hand gestures as he tried to think of what to say in this situation.

"Why are you still dressed?"

Harry blinked at Draco, forgetting his discomfort for the moment as he tried to understand how that question suited this situation. "Err… what?"

"If you're here, why are you still dressed?" Draco shook his head and waved his hand, dismissing the question. "Never mind that, why did you open the curtains? Also, why aren't you sucking me off yet?"

Harry gaped at him, completely dumbfounded.

"Malfoy… _what the fuck_ are you on about?"

Draco's eyes narrowed on him and he said, slowly, "Why are you, a product of my imagination, ruining this dream for me? Get over here and suck me off! God! It would figure you would be a complete git in a dream, too."

Harry, mind gone blank at that, just shook his head and walked out of the room. Stopping out in the hallway, he recalled why he'd gone to Draco's room in the first place and shouted, "You're not dreaming, Malfoy. Get some clothes on and get downstairs. We need to strategise."

Shuddering all over at the mental images Draco had foisted on him, Harry went down to the formal dining room and proceeded to beat his head into the table in an attempt to forget the scene that continued to play out behind his eyelids.

The sound of shuffling footsteps made him look up and he felt a blush burning under his skin at seeing a very sleep-tousled Draco standing there, one hand smoothing through his hair—which had been trimmed, but left long—as the other rubbed over his belly, drawing Harry's gaze down to—

Harry jerked, spinning back around to face the opposite direction. Draco had come down to breakfast sporting a pyjama-tenting morning erection. _Well, at least he put on pyjamas_ , Harry thought wildly.

"Where's Mother?"

"Oh my _God_ , you did _not_ come down here like that looking for your _Mother_ ," Harry exclaimed, disgusted.

"What? Oh… well, she _is_ my mother, Potter. Stands to reason she's seen it all before, right?"

Harry turned back to him, mouth gaping open. 

"Ahh, and here I thought you'd decided not to oblige me," Draco said, waggling his eyebrows as he stepped toward Harry.

Harry sat back so violently that his chair fell over, dumping him to the floor amidst peals of laughter from Draco. 

"Fucking git," Harry said, shaking with anger and humiliation as he stood up, putting the chair upright as he did so. Sitting in the chair again, he glared at Draco and said, "So, dream of me much, then?"

Draco shrugged, crossing to the buffet table on the side of the room to select a scone. "Only when I'm slumming."

Harry scowled and said, "And how often is _that_?" Before Draco could respond, Harry held up a hand and said, "You know what? Never mind. I really don't _want_ to know."

Draco shrugged again, licking butter from his fingers as he said, "Suit yourself, Potter."

The sound of light, quick footsteps reached them then and Draco stiffened before darting from the room. Harry stared after him in confusion as Narcissa sailed into the room on a perfume-scented cloud. 

"Did you have trouble waking Draco?" she asked lightly.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, only to flush as he remembered, once again, what exactly had happened when he'd woken Draco. "Erm, he's awake."

"Marvellous. We have much to discuss," she murmured as she opened a large, old fashioned day planner on the gleaming surface of the table, drawing a quill from the air—her ease with wordless magic never ceased to amaze Harry—and began circling dates and jotting notes.

Harry cocked his head, trying to read the fine, small script. "What's that?"

Narcissa held up the hand not involved in writing to gesture for silence. Harry sat back in his chair, trying not to fidget as the minutes drew out. At this point, he'd be glad to have Draco back needling him, if for no other reason than to break up the monotony of the endless scratching of quill across paper.

As if conjured from his thoughts, Draco reappeared dressed in perfectly pressed robes, his hair long and loose around his shoulders. Narcissa glanced up from her writing to look him over with a critical eye; frowning slightly, she flicked her wand at him and his hair drew back tightly, tied into a queue at the nape of his neck.

Harry looked away, attempting to hide his smirk.

"Come in, darling. Have a seat. We have much to discuss."

Harry turned back to Narcissa, a question on his tongue when she said, "As Mr Potter is not quite as gifted at cunning and strategy as one would expect, I shall be directing our movements starting now."

Harry frowned, chagrined, as Draco laughed lightly. "Mother, I could have told you Potter isn't cunning."

Narcissa shot Draco a cool look and said, "As your own cunning leaves much to be desired, you might wish to hold your tongue, dear. Now, here is the schedule I have planned for the next several months…"

~*~

"Mother _does_ appear to have an affinity for orphans, doesn't she, Potter?"

Harry looked around at Draco and sighed. The last month had been one giant test of his patience and it didn't seem that anything was going to get better any time soon. He should probably be happy that at least their outings weren't fraught with angry tension as they'd been in the days immediately following Draco's release from Azkaban. Narcissa had stepped in after their third disastrous attempt at attending a public event together and told them both in no uncertain terms that they would give the appearance of civility; if they couldn't fake it, she knew of a wonderful potion and didn't have any qualms with using it on one or the other of them. 

Of course, Draco _did_ have a point. This was the fifth time they'd done something with or for orphans since they'd begun Narcissa's strict regimen, though somehow she had managed to find ways to give the impression that all they'd done had been for purely altruistic reasons. 

Not, as was the case, to put the evil shiny glow back on the Malfoy name. 

Harry scrubbed a hand against his forehead as he looked around at the eager young faces beaming up at him so innocently. Glancing back at Draco, he sighed and rolled his eyes, gesturing toward a group of young girls clumped together in the corner, talking in whispers as they darted glances at the loitering boys.

"You get the girls this time. You're certainly a far better choice for them than I would be."

"Whatever, Potter. You just want to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies and drool over the new Cleansweep XL."

Harry grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, a bit. Do you mind?"

"You owe me. Leaving me with a gaggle of girl orphans." Draco shuddered, his lip curling into a sneer.

"Yeah, well, there's that new shop on Diagon Alley… you could take them there," Harry offered weakly.

Draco frowned slightly. "What new shop?"

"Err… something about Victoria?"

"The Truth About Victoria?! Oh my God, Potter, you deviant! I am not taking a group of preadolescent girls lingerie shopping!" 

Harry felt a bright blush warm his cheeks. "Oh. I didn't realise it was a lingerie shop. I just know Hermione and Ginny—"

"Ugh, please, Potter." Draco's skin tinged nearly green as he blanched. "You will set me right off food for a week if you even attempt to foist thoughts of those two in that store on me… oh, never mind. You've already done it, thanks ever so."

Harry simply rolled his eyes and turned away, gesturing for the boys to follow him. Draco's taunts about Quidditch ringing in his ears, he made the decision to take them to Madam Malkin's first to have them fitted for two sets of robes each before indulging in his passion for broomsticks.

The afternoon passed quickly and all too soon it was time to go meet the other group and the orphanage Director for ice cream where Harry and Draco would give up their charges. Harry checked to ensure he had all the boys still—they'd been to George's shop already where they were loaded down with free pranks—and herded them up Diagon Alley to Fortescue's, where Sophia, the Director, was ready for them. 

She smiled warmly at Harry, looking far more relaxed than she'd been that morning after spending her free time at a day spa—courtesy of the Black family vault—and asked, "Will Mr Malfoy be joining us soon?"

Harry frowned, glancing across Diagon Alley at the large clock that graced the front of Gringott's. It was already five minutes past four—their agreed-upon meeting time—and a quick scan of the crowds along the street did not show Draco or his group. 

"Hmm, it looks like they've been held up. Will you be all right here by yourself while I go see if I can speed things along?" Harry asked.

Sophia smiled and nodded, reaching back to take something from the hand of a devilish-looking boy without even looking. Harry winced, mouthing, "Sorry," as he backed away and joined the crowd of shopping pedestrians.

Hurrying down the cobbled street, he wound his way through the throng of people until he was within line of sight of the entry to Knockturn Alley. _Please, please don't let Malfoy have taken those girls down there,_ he thought nervously, looking behind him to see if Sophia was paying him any attention. The crowd parted just enough for him to see that she was busy reprimanding the same boy whose prank she had taken away moments earlier.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry was about to turn down Knockturn when a flash of bright hair out of the corner of his eye made him glance about to see Draco standing in front of The Magical Menagerie, pointing out something to the group of girls standing sedately in front of him.

Harry pushed his way across the street to go alert Draco to the time, but when he came up behind them, he heard Draco saying, "Yes, that's a Kneazle. Quite useful, Kneazles."

"What do they do, Mr Draco? It looks like a big, ugly cat."

"Yes, well, it _is_ a big, ugly cat. But it's also very intelligent."

"Do you have a Kneazle?"

"Oh, no. I don't keep pets."

"Why not?"

"My mother is… allergic."

Harry nearly laughed aloud at that but swallowed it down and continued listening, finding this conversation highly entertaining.

"Well, then, how do you know?"

"Are you questioning my knowledge of all things arcane?"

"Err, I don't know nothin' 'bout no canes, Mr Draco, but how do you know that Kneazles are good? They look… scary. Not cute and fluffy like a kitty."

"They are only scary if one is a rat. And are you a rat, Miss Annie?"

Harry felt something in his chest tighten at the darkly gleeful tone of Draco's voice even as the little girl giggled and rolled her eyes as she said, "Noooo, I'm not a rat!"

"Then I would say you have nothing to fear from a Kneazle. However, slimy, pot-bellied rats should run and hide because you were right when you said the Kneazles are nothing like cute and fluffy kitties. These creatures have a keen intelligence and wickedly sharp… claws." 

Harry watched, bemused, as Draco brought his hand up to his face for a fleeting moment.

"Well, girls, it appears that we are running late for the meet-up at Fortescue's. Gather your packages." The brisk efficiency of Draco's voice startled Harry and he turned to walk further along with the crowd, not wanting Draco to know that he'd been standing there listening.

Harry backtracked after seeing that Draco was walking slowly against the flow of shoppers with his tiny flock of young ladies. Speeding up, he fell to within touching distance of Draco as the same little girl pressed for more information.

"You're really smart, Mr Draco."

"Of course I am," Draco answered, causing Harry to roll his eyes.

"How do you know so much about Kneazles?"

Draco sighed, the impatience he was feeling transmitting itself to Harry. "I once knew a girl, much like you, one who wanted to know everything. She had a Kneazle."

"Was she your girlfriend?"

"Oh, good God, no!" Draco burst out before glancing down at the little girl and amending that to, "No. Definitely not. She and I … had many differences."

"Yeah, she had a Kneazle and you didn't." The little girl frowned at Draco then, as if wondering if he was a proper source of information.

"She had more than just a Kneazle," Draco murmured, rubbing one hand against his chest, his voice so low Harry wondered if he'd imagined what Draco had said.

"Why?" 

Harry frowned, wondering at the little girl's question. Draco's answer made him blink in surprise… and stayed with him for weeks after. "Because _she_ was a very smart girl."

~*~

Over the following weeks and months, as Harry wielded hammers and nappy pins alongside Draco—in accordance with the strict schedule Narcissa had set them—he came to appreciate the subtle nuances of the other man. The sly humour laced through his sarcastic conversation surprised laugher out of Harry on more than one occasion and it wasn't long before he was looking forward to their time spent together.

Though it often seemed unbelievable, they were… friends. It was a tentative friendship at best, but Harry found that Draco was more relaxed, easier to laugh, and while he still made completely inappropriate sexual innuendos, they were apparently intended to be a form of good-natured teasing instead of the humiliation Harry had initially thought.

If Harry's feeling went beyond friendship, he didn't acknowledge it even to himself. 

Narcissa's course of action ran smoothly, so much so that when invitations went out asking high-profile witches and wizards to play in a charity Quidditch exhibition, Draco received one. The sun shone brightly on the brilliant green field as Harry and Draco's teams entered the Quidditch arena. Thousands of people had come to watch this charity match and the cheers were nearly deafening as Harry's name was called. He listened intently for the reaction to Draco's name, but except for a few scattered boos, the audience contented themselves with polite applause.

"Not bad, Potter," Draco murmured from the side of his mouth. "Only three months out of Azkaban and people are actually willing to applaud my name. Another few years and I may be able to walk down the street without worrying over a hex in the back."

Harry rolled his eyes good naturedly. "If anyone was going to cast a hex in the back, it'd be you, Malfoy. Shut up and let's play. Unless you're ready to concede defeat now and save us all the trouble?"

"You wish, Potter."

Harry grinned and straddled his broom as the referee approached with his whistle. "This will be fun. Wiping the field with your team again, I mean. Like old times."

Draco's snort was lost in the blast of the whistle, and the two teams shot into the air. On Harry's side were several minor celebrities, including two members of the Weird Sisters, Myron Wagtail and Gideon Crumb. A third member, Donoghan Tremlett was on Draco's team and, in between searching for the Snitch, Harry watched in bemusement as the rock star teased and flirted with Draco, who batted his eyelashes and flirted right back. 

"Berk," Harry muttered, ducking a rather slow-moving Bludger. He sat back on his broom and sighed, slightly disappointed in the pace of the game so far. They'd been playing for at least fifteen minutes already and the score was still tied… at nil. Neither team seemed to have much skill, not like what Harry was accustomed to, at any rate.

Deciding to shake things up a bit, Harry suddenly shot forward on his broom, drawing Draco's attention and leading him toward the far side of the field before pulling up and laughing at the dark expression on Draco's face.

"Aww, what's wrong, Malfoy? A bit of misdirection shouldn't make you so angry. Or is it because you had to leave your boyfriend?"

Expecting a bit of return taunting, Harry was unprepared for the considering look that crossed Draco's face before he urged his broom closer to Harry's, floating to his side as he leaned in and whispered, "What's wrong, Potter? Jealous?"

Harry snorted even as he drew away from the warm breath gusting against the side of his neck. "As if."

Draco tilted his head, staring at Harry as he considered him for a moment before he smiled knowingly. "You're curious."

Harry rolled his eyes. " _You're_ confused."

"Oh, no. I haven't been confused since Montague in fifth year."

Harry's mouth dropped open. " _Montague_?"

Draco nodded and licked his lips as they floated lazily in the air, their teammates batting Bludgers back and forth for the entertainment of the spectators. Harry glanced at the scoreboard to see that Draco's team had actually managed to score a goal. Ten, nought. 

"Montague was a lovely, brute bloke. He certainly gave new meaning to _Inquisitorial Squad_ , if you know what I mean."

Harry shuddered. "He took one too many Bludgers to the face, Malfoy. I can't believe you saw anything in him."

Draco smirked. "You were looking, then?"

"Couldn't miss that face, Draco," Harry replied dryly. "Too many children had nightmares about it."

Draco tossed his head back and laughed. Harry was so distracted by the free look on Draco's face that he nearly missed the glint of gold about three metres below his Keeper's foot. 

Taking advantage of Draco's lack of attention, he pointed his broomstick at the Snitch and took off with a whoop. A few seconds later, a tug on the twigs of his broomstick both slowed him down and pulled him off course, allowing Draco to go flashing past him, his "Catch me if you can!" echoing oddly.

Harry ground his teeth together and leaned forward again, putting on a burst of speed, pulling his feet up onto the back of his broom and flattening out on the handle to keep from creating drag. He managed to pull even with Malfoy just as the Snitch noticed them coming and took off, zooming right then left, trying to lose the two men bearing down on it.

The wind rushing past Harry brought him back to their school days, to the intense rivalry that had pushed him to test his limits. The adrenaline pumping through his veins convinced him that he was as capable now as he'd been then and a wild thought burst into his head. Laughing wickedly, Harry inched his feet along the broom until he was kneeling on it. 

Draco turned his head then, staring at Harry in shock, his cautionary shout snatched away by the wind. Harry grinned at Draco, that spark of daring that had led him into danger time and again lighting him up on the inside until he felt truly alive. Harry gripped his broom hard, hanging on tightly as he lined his feet up under him. As soon as his feet were steady, he let go with one hand, then the other and straightened up, reaching for the Snitch.

However, the same manoeuvre that he'd attempted with limited success at twelve ended in almost exactly the same manner nearly eight years later. He stepped too far forward on his speeding broom in an attempt to grab the Snitch from the air and his broomstick tipped down, tossing him off. In some trick of fate, the Snitch took a downward dive at the same time that Harry began a freefall through the air and the thought formulated in his mind, _If I'm going to die for this Snitch, I'm going to actually catch it first!_

Just as the tickle of metallic wings brushed his palm, strong arms wrapped around his middle; slowing his descent. Harry laughed out loud, relief and giddiness rushing through him so much that he almost felt capable of flying himself. The arms tightened, pulling him onto a broomstick in front of a hard, slim body and Harry craned around to see Draco's pale face.

"What's wrong?" Harry shouted over the noise of the wind.

Draco's lips flattened into a tight line and he didn't answer until they were safely on the ground.

"Potter… What the _fuck_ did you think you were doing up there? Were you _trying_ to kill yourself?" 

The low, urgent words didn't penetrate the bubble of elation that had formed around Harry and he simply smiled widely and held up his fist, opening it slowly to show the now-docile Snitch lying there. "I was _winning_."

Draco looked down at the Snitch, staring at it in apparent disbelief for a long moment before angry red colour bloomed in his cheeks and he hissed, "Fuck you, Potter." With those furious words hanging on the air, he spun on his heel and stomped off the field, ignoring the rest of the players dropping out of the air, belatedly realising the match was over.

Harry looked down at the Snitch, his brows drawing together before he tossed it to the ground and took off after Draco. "Wait! Malfoy… hold up!"

Draco stopped in his tracks, halfway through the tunnel between the field and the locker rooms, but didn't turn back. He simply waited for Harry, his shoulders trembling slightly. 

Harry slowed, seeing that, and came to a hesitant stop beside Draco, peeking worriedly at Draco's face for signs of tears or… something. "Err… you all right there, mate?" Harry asked gently.

Draco turned toward him stiffly, incredulousness written in ever line of his face. "Am I all right? Am I _all right?_ "

Harry's lips twitched and he coughed into his fist, trying not to find humour in Draco's overreaction to Harry's fall.

"Tell me something, Potter, since you find this all so very laughable."

"I don't—"

"Save it," Draco hissed. "Knowing now that you were on the Tower with us that night, how would you enjoy seeing yet another person fall to their death? Is it still so very funny?"

Harry's breath left him in a rush and that small ball of guilt that had been twisting within him earlier exploded through his body. "Oh God, Draco, I'm sorry. I really am. I… I had no idea—"

"Fuck off, Potter," Draco said and turned away, walking quickly toward the changing rooms just as the rest of their team-mates began filtering into the tunnel. 

"Excellent catch, Potter." Harry turned numbly to see Myron Wagtail slouching toward him, dark eyes roving over Harry's body in a rather irritating way.

"Err, thanks," Harry mumbled, looking for an escape route. He didn't want to go into the locker rooms, now that he realised just how angry Draco was with him—and why. 

"Say, the band's going out for drinks later. We'd like for you and… your friend… to come along. It could be a lot of fun."

Harry blinked then flushed as he realised Wagtail was chatting him up. "Err. I, uh, I just…"

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes nearly closed in relief as he heard Narcissa's voice drifting to him down the long tunnel. Turning swiftly, he gave her a dazzling smile and said, "Narcissa! Were you looking for us? I'm so sorry you had to see—"

"Never mind that, dear. I knew Draco would get to you in time. Is he showering now?"

Harry turned back to Wagtail who was growing visibly impatient, frowning petulantly at Narcissa who was ignoring his presence entirely. "Err, sorry. Myron Wagtail, this is Narcissa—"

"Mrs Malfoy, yeah. I know." The very bland way Wagtail said that made Harry hold his breath in anticipation of Narcissa's reaction. 

She, however, merely turned and swept her gaze over the singer before raising one eyebrow and saying coldly, "How absolutely… charming."

Wagtail flushed and straightened away from the wall he'd been slumped rather artistically against. "I'll see you around, Potter. Owl me about the drinks, yeah?"

Harry rubbed one hand against the back of his neck and shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

As soon as his footsteps died off around the corner, Narcissa turned to Harry and whispered excitedly, "I've had a most wonderful idea, Harry. Run and fetch Draco so we can discuss it?"

Harry hesitated. "He's, erm, he's rather angry with me right at the moment," Harry said. 

Narcissa glanced down the tunnel, a shadow crossing her features. "I'll speak with him, Harry. But first, it is imperative that both of you return to the Manor."

Harry bit his lip but nodded and walked slowly toward the locker rooms. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, he pushed against the doors and stepped into the rather damp room, looking about for Draco. Seeing several players shucking their gear, but none with Draco's distinctive hair, Harry walked through the locker room into the showers, softly calling Draco's name. 

While the showers were steam filled from recent use, the taps were all off. In the far corner was something that made Harry pause, a sick feeling rising within him. Donoghan Tremlett was leaning over Draco, running a finger lightly over the pale pink scar bisecting Draco's wet chest. His lean body was covered only by a small white towel which nearly disappeared next to the paleness of his skin.

Confused, Harry cleared his throat, shifting his feet as he glanced down at the wet tiles. "Erm, Draco, I… Sorry for, uh, interrupting, but Narcissa—"

"Tell Mother I'll be along in a moment, Potter."

Harry's lips tightened in irritation at being sent about like a messenger-boy, but he nodded and backed out of the showers. Striding rather forcefully over to a bench—he wasn’t stomping, he really wasn't—he sat down heavily and began pulling off his shin guards and various bits of protective gear. He tried not to notice the time passing as the other players called out to him when they left. He waved silently and continued waiting, ears twitching at every sound from the showers.

Not soon enough, he heard Draco's low voice growing closer to the locker room and bent, picking up his bag as Draco and Tremlett emerged, Tremlett still fully dressed, though Draco was refastening the knot in his towel. Harry scowled down at his bag and slammed his Quidditch gear into it a bit more forcefully than necessary. 

"Later, Potter," Tremlett drawled before leaning over and whispering something in Draco's ear that made him chuckle. 

"Go home, Donoghan," Draco said, pushing at the other man's shoulders good naturedly, his grin relaxed, eyelids slightly heavy. Harry bit his lip, his gaze swinging back and forth between the two men.

When Tremlett leaned toward Draco again, Harry said, "Err, 'bye."

Tremlett looked over at him as if surprised to still see him there and then looked between Harry and Draco, considering. "Yeah. 'Bye then. Owl me, Draco? We'll have to get together again."

_Again?_

"We'll see," Draco said, far too coyly in Harry's opinion.

Tremlett strolled out the door, throwing one last glance over his shoulder at Draco before it closed behind him. An uncomfortable silence fell over Harry and Draco then until Harry cleared his throat and said, "I'm, erm, I'm sorry, Draco. I really am. I didn't think—"

"And this is news why?"

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, studying the strap of his bag. "Look, just… thank you, okay? Thank you for being there and catching me and… not letting me die." He looked up then and gasped, backing up half a step at seeing that Draco had silently crossed the room and was standing right in front of him. "Err, sorry, you startled me."

"Mmm. You're thankful?"

Harry blinked and nodded slowly. "Yeah. You saved my life."

"A kiss for the hero, then?"

Everything in Harry went completely still as he stared in shock at Draco. "I… I…" He shook his head, not knowing what to say or how to react. 

Draco's lips twisted in a look of disgust. "Oh, grow up, Potter. I'm not going to attack you."

Harry hated the confusion that had been swirling within him for the better part of an hour and lashed out angrily in reaction. "Yeah, well, not that you really wanted it anyway, you prick. You just like taking the piss every chance you get, trying to get a rise out of me. Think I don't know you and Tremlett were in there… doing things?" Harry snorted disgustedly.

"'Doing things?' Why, Potter, I'm touched at your blatant jealousy."

Harry rolled his eyes and turned toward the door, flushed and uncomfortable and… yes, and angry now. "Whatever, Malfoy. Look, Narcissa wants to speak with us, but I want to go home and grab a proper change of clothes first. Tell her I'll be along as soon as possible, yeah?"

"Whatever you say, Potter."

Harry waved vaguely and pulled open the doors, going a safe distance away before Apparating to his flat with a slightly louder than normal _crack_.

~*~

Less than a week later, Harry walked into the Wizarding Park that was laid out behind the Ministry, nervousness stirring within him as he looked around and spotted Draco reading quietly on a bench. Unobtrusively making his way toward the other man, Harry replayed Narcissa's plan in his head. It was ridiculously simple.

Last week's papers had been filled with photos of Draco plucking Harry from the air, stopping him from plummeting to his death. The wizarding world was ridiculously grateful for the well-being of their favourite hero; Narcissa was planning to solidify their position in society by having Draco ride to the rescue again. A true knight in shining armour, rescuing the heroine… or rather, the hero… in distress.

Stopping next to Draco, Harry bent over the bench, lifting his foot and adjusting the laces on his trainers as he spoke softly to Draco. 

"This is a horrible idea."

"The idea is fine, Potter. As long as you remember what you're supposed to do, we can get this over with and… This should be the last activity we'll be forced into, if all goes according to plan."

Harry rolled his lips under, slightly hurt at how eager Draco was to be rid of him. The tentative friendship they'd been forming had crumbled to dust after the stunt Harry had pulled at the charity match. He knew he had no right to be upset, but Harry found he missed the snarky, overly flirtatious Draco he'd been coming to know. His new friend had been replaced with a cold, closed-off stranger and…

Harry sighed quietly. It was his fault and there was no use dwelling on what he couldn't change now. Standing upright again, he stretched his shoulder muscles and said, "They'll be waiting for me on the far side of the lake, right?"

"We've been over this multiple times, Potter, but if you're too thick to remember the simplest of plans—"

"God, Malfoy, never mind. I apologise for trying to hold a conversation."

"Is that what you were doing?" Draco's tone was utterly bored and dismissive.

Harry shook his head, glancing across the lake and muttered, "It's a good thing I trust you, Malfoy." Pulling his t-shirt off over his head, Harry missed the quick, unguarded look Draco shot him. Tucking the shirt into the loose waistband of his jogging pants to free his hands, Harry took a deep breath, flexing his head back and forth as he hopped up and down a few times. "Well, see you in a bit."

"Make it believable, Potter." 

Harry glanced quickly at Draco, hearing an odd note in his voice, but Draco's head was down again as he pretended to read the book in his lap. Harry took off jogging, trying hard not to stare at the copse of trees on the far side of the lake around which he was running, the spot they'd agreed to stage his mugging. Three men were going to jump out and attack him, getting in a few good punches before Draco Apparated across to him to "save" him. 

Harry looked around at all the witches and wizards making use of the park today, smiling at those who noticed him, trying to draw enough attention that when the "attack" occurred, they would be watching… and see Draco's heroic rescue. 

Harry made the first bend around the jogging path, nearly halfway to the attack point. Seeing a young family pushing a pram ahead of him, Harry moved to jog around them, stepping off the path just at a place where two large bushes grew up on either side of it, creating a tunnel of sorts.

Just before he burst through to the other side, he was grabbed from behind, a strong arm winding around his mid-section as a wand poked him in the side of his neck. The young woman pushing the pram stopped short, giving a sharp scream of fear even as her husband fumbled for his own wand. Harry forgot to struggle for the briefest of moments, simply stunned that the plan had changed and no one had bothered to tell him.

When he did remember his part enough to start struggling, though, a voice hissed in his ear, "Fight all you want, Potter, but you're mine now. The Dark Lord will be avenged."

 _Wow, how pathetically unoriginal_ , Harry thought, reminding himself to tell the thug Narcissa had hired to—

The navel-hook of a Portkey grabbed Harry then and when the world stopped spinning, he was released. Stumbling forward, Harry turned to glare at the person who'd taken him, wanting to know just why and when the plan had changed. However, as soon as he was able to identify Marcus Flint, he heard, " _Expelliarmus_ " quickly followed by " _Crucio!_ " and fell to the floor, spasming all over as pain such as he hadn't felt in years burst over his senses.

It took the mind-numbing pain spreading through his body for Harry to realise that something had gone horribly, tragically wrong. _Oh, fuck._

"You will pay, Potter. You will pay for my father, my mother, and the Dark Lord. You will pay for my friends and their families. And when I have made you pay for every transgression, I will sell you to the highest bidder so that _they_ can have the opportunity to exact their revenge as well."

Harry screamed, his body on fire, barely registering Flint's words. As he was wracked with convulsions, his head hit the stone floor hard enough to send his mind spinning down into darkness.

~*~

When Harry next woke, he was inside a cage of some sort, the nearly electric sizzle of magic warning him away from the walls of it. His body still ached from the remembered pain of the Cruciatus curse, but a low throbbing from his bladder made him call out.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

Faint footsteps from the hall outside made Harry tense in anticipation. It was Flint again, strolling into the room which held Harry's cage, comfortable enough that Harry would bet he owned the house they were in. The burly man walked over to the cage, satisfaction glowing in his gaze as he looked Harry over. 

"I do believe I like this look for you, Potter. And they always said you had no sense of style."

Harry narrowed his eyes, swallowing down a sharp retort to that as he said, "I need to take a piss. And eat something."

"You dare make demands of _me_?" Flint went red with rage and drew his wand. Before Harry could brace himself, he was falling to the floor, the pain of the Cruciatus curse blasting through him once again.

~*~

Harry quickly learned not to antagonise Flint. He was removed from his cage three times that day to relieve himself and eat, but there was never any opportunity to attempt to overpower his captor and escape.

When Flint approached his cage, wand drawn, Harry closed his eyes, expecting another fun round of Cruciatus. What he received instead was a thorough, if fast, cleaning charm. It left his hair soft and wild, his skin fresh, and even his jogging pants were clean. His shirt had been lost in the scuffle by the lake, so all he had for clothing was his baggy pants and the old trainers he'd been wearing when he'd been taken.

"There, now you look nice and… pretty again. I'm sure my friend will appreciate that. I do recall he had a fondness for the boys in school."

Though that last comment had obviously been meant to inspire fear, Harry's forehead wrinkled in simple confusion as Flint left the room. A _friend_? Did that mean Flint was taking a break from his 'revenge' scheme or that someone was going to be helping him now? Harry stepped toward the front of the cage as the sound of slow moving footsteps reached him.

Harry's eyes went wide as he watched Draco walk into the room, his eyes sweeping coolly over Harry before lazily returning to Flint. He became even more incredulous when Draco completely ignored his presence and began talking of everyday matters as if there were not a half-naked man in a magical cage in the corner of the room.

"What the fuck?! Malfoy!" Harry called, stopping just before he could touch the edges of the cage. The shock he'd received the last—and only—time he'd done that was still too fresh in his mind. The searing pain had been close enough to the Cruciatus curse that he wondered if it wasn't some derivative form.

Draco sighed heavily and pursed his lips as he said, irritation heavy in his voice, "Really, Marcus, it's all well and good to keep pets, but surely you're planning to house-train it a bit? Teach it _some_ manners?"

It took Harry a moment to understand that Draco was talking about _him_ like that, as if he were an unruly dog. A puppy that'd had the audacity to piddle on the carpet. The shock of it sent him staggering back, his mouth falling open as—

Draco turned his head then, his eyes locking for the briefest of moments with Harry's and… there was nothing there. No wink, no blink, no glimmer, nothing. But somehow that one heartbeat of silent staring told Harry that Draco had a plan. He didn't know what the plan was or how Draco was intending to turn things to their advantage, but he had to trust that Draco knew what he was doing. If nothing else, Draco was a survivor. Harry had to put his faith in that… because he literally had nothing else to pin his hopes on.

While he wanted to relax, he knew he couldn't. It would likely undo whatever Draco had done to get them here. Instead, he began to scream. Obscenities that he'd never spoken before poured from his mouth as he unleashed his fury, the words echoing furiously around the room before Draco scowled and waved his wand, his lips moving as he incanted a Silencing spell, though Harry couldn't hear him over his own shouts. 

Shouts that cut off like a switch had been thrown in his vocal chords. It was odd, because he could still _feel_ his throat straining with the effort required for screaming and shouting, but it was like the air flowing through his throat just wasn't doing anything. He stopped, tried to make any sound, and found that even clapping and stomping provided only silence. 

But he knew something now. Draco had a wand. 

He wanted to sag in relief, but he paced the small confines of his cage instead, snarling at the two men in the room with him whenever they so much as turned their heads in his direction. When he was certain he'd played his part to the fullest, he made a show of giving up and slumped to the floor, resting his head on his upraised knees as he strained to hear their conversation.

He frowned; Draco was making no effort to keep the pitch of the conversation loud enough for him to overhear anything important. He chewed on his lip as he listened, picking the words apart as he tried to interpret any message Draco might be sending him.

His stomach rolled when he realised _there wasn't one._

Flint even gave Draco a perfect opportunity when he mentioned all the publicity Draco had been garnering lately. Draco simply shrugged, though, and said, "When you have a tool at your disposal, you use it. Potter was a means to an end—" chills went through Harry at that far too familiar phrase "—and the fact that I am sitting here, my fortune at my disposal, should speak to the cunning of my plan."

Every bit of hope that had flooded Harry earlier disappeared, leaving him gasping for breath as the full extent of Draco's—and Narcissa's—betrayal overwhelmed him. He couldn't listen to the conversation any longer. He stared off into space, mind and body completely numb.

So when he heard a coolly spoken _Petrificus Totalus_ , it took a few moments for him to realise what had happened. Slowly lifting his head, he looked through bleary, pained eyes and saw Flint lying stiff as a board on the floor, only his head and shoulders truly visible from the cage Harry was sitting miserably inside. 

He turned his disbelieving gaze to Draco, who was standing smoothly from the couch, hands brushing invisible wrinkles from his rather formal and businesslike robes. 

"Fucker," he heard Draco mutter just before a distinct thump sounded. 

Harry watched Draco closely as he rounded the couch and came over to the cage, looking it over carefully before he drew his wand and said, "Watch out, Potter. There might be a bit of backwash. This was rather powerfully constructed."

Harry swallowed hard and shrank back to the far side away from the door, understanding that the magic would have a ripple back effect and that being in a straight line would save him from the brunt of it. He covered his head with his arms regardless, even though that wouldn't help a bit to keep the magic from lashing him if he was wrong.

A ringing in his ears and the nearly electric jolt of powerful magic slamming through him made Harry cringe down into himself, crying out silently until the fiercest pulse died away, leaving only shadowy tingles along his body that were more irritating than painful. 

Strong hands gripping his shoulders pulled him to his feet and steadied him until he could stand under his own power. 

"—ter? Potter!" Draco shook him and it occurred to Harry that he'd likely called Harry's name more than once. 

Harry opened his eyes, body still twitching spasmodically, and gave a short little nod. He watched closely as Draco relaxed with relief, his eyelids fluttering almost closed as the tension of the past few seconds left him. Then that smile was back and Draco was saying something stupidly flippant before he turned and nearly flounced from the cage, throwing a careless _Finite Incantatem_ over his shoulder as he did so, cancelling his Silencing Spell. 

Harry coughed just to hear the sound of it, then followed, slower, still shaky even though the faintest tremors of aftershock had passed out of his system. He glanced down at Flint where he lay on the floor and turned back to Draco, who was smirking rather abominably, his arms spread out along the back of the couch which he'd thrown himself onto once again. 

"So, Potter. Ready to throw yourself at my feet and pledge your undying—err, _eternal_ is possibly a better word choice there, so sorry—gratitude to me yet? I'll take that kiss you wouldn't give me before."

Harry clenched his hands at his sides, his whole body beginning to shake as the tension and confusion of emotions of the day caught up with him. Walking slowly over to the couch, he dropped to his knees on the cushion beside Draco and waited a heartbeat before lashing out with one of his fists, catching Draco just under his pointy chin.

"You fucking _bastard_! Do you have any _idea_ what I—"

"What the _fuck_ was that for, you prick?! I just saved your sorry arse and you thank me by _hitting_ me? What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?!"

"Oh, I'm so very sorry, _Malfoy_ , you piece of shit! I sat there, thinking you were in on it, listening to the two of you go on and on about the fate that awaited me. Listening to you talk about how I was a 'tool'… a 'means to an end.' Well fuck you, Malfoy! Fuck… you!"

Harry was trembling with rage, this manipulation finally tipping the scales; simply more than he could stand. For some reason, thinking he'd been used by Draco had been far worse than it had ever been before with any other person. He'd come to genuinely care for Draco, as a friend and—Harry cut that line of thought off, recognising on some level that it was too dangerous to his peace of mind.

Unable to even _look_ at Draco any longer, Harry got up and stomped across the room, searching for the front door. He had no intention of turning back, but when Draco called his name sharply, Harry spun around, drawing breath for another rant. 

That breath turned into a gasp when Draco's mouth pressed angrily to his. Harry went completely still, wide eyes staring blankly into Draco's as he attempted to understand exactly what was going on. Well, okay, Draco was kissing him, but _why_? Was it payback for Harry punching him? Was it because he'd saved Harry's life _again_? Harry's hands came up, resting on Draco's chest as he tried to decide through the confusion of his thoughts whether or not to push him away.

Draco growled then, breaking Harry's train of thought. Draco's tongue sliding over Harry's lips made his jaw go slack with shock, and Draco took swift advantage. The feeling of Draco's tongue winding around his own made Harry release a short breath from his nose and his eyes fluttered shut as he tilted his head slightly, finally relaxing into the kiss.

Draco's hands splayed wide on his back, pulling him closer. The feeling of Draco's body against his was at once confusing and arousing. Where he was accustomed to soft curves, there were only hard lines, but the strength under his fingertips called to him on a primal level. While Harry had been content to passively accept the kiss only a heartbeat before, he suddenly felt the driving need to press forward, to push and push until he was completely imprinted on Draco. 

Because some time in the past three months—the past three _days_ , even—Draco had managed to become… important; far more important than he had any right to be. He'd cunningly climbed under Harry's skin until the thought of him not being there, of this quasi-relationship suddenly ending, was enough to drive Harry insane. 

He slid his hands from Draco's chest up into his hair, grabbing handfuls of it as he slanted his mouth against Draco's over and over. His sudden aggression made Draco groan, thrusting one leg between both of Harry's, causing him to lose his footing and stumble slightly. 

Draco pulled back from the kiss, guiding Harry firmly to the wall and propping him against it as he dragged his teeth over the edge of Harry's jaw-line, his late-day stubble causing an audible rasp that sent shivers down both men's spines. 

"Fuck!" Harry said, his head dropping back to loll against the panelled wall. 

"Told you so," Draco mumbled against his throat.

Harry laughed breathlessly before realising he had no idea what Draco was talking about. "Told me what?"

"Curious. You're dangerous with that. Like a cat."

Harry shuddered as Draco's lips brushed against his Adam's apple and he pulled on Draco's hair, forcing his head up so Harry could taste that sarcastic mouth again. Amazingly enough, sarcasm tasted like a blend of Darjeeling tea and chocolate. Sweet and spicy and absolutely delicious.

Draco pressed his thigh firmly against Harry's groin, causing his mind to go blank as desire beat furiously through him. The kiss turned nearly painful then as they became less careful with their teeth, their tongues continuing to lick and lave at the interior of their mouths. Harry choked on a shout as Draco's hand slithered around to his front, dipping under the loose elastic of his waistband to grip his cock firmly.

"Gah!" Harry would have a knot on the back of his head at the rate they were going from how hard he knocked it against the wall at the feeling of Draco's long fingers encasing him, sliding up and down his cock as it throbbed nearly painfully. 

Combined with those lips once again attacking his throat—and _oh, God_ his collar bone—Harry was truly afraid he'd embarrass himself by coming in the next few seconds. With a pained whimper, Harry grabbed Draco's wrist, pulling that talented hand from his cock—he whimpered miserably again—and pushed him back. Bracing his hands on his knees, he tried to block the sounds of Draco's fluent cursing as he laboriously fought to control his breathing and heart rate.

"What the fuck, Potter? You're getting cold feet _now_?"

Not wanting to confess how close he'd been to losing all control, Harry swiftly sought another explanation. Eyes darting about the room, he gave a quiet sigh of relief and said, "I can't do this—" A sharp sound from Draco cut him off momentarily before Harry scowled at him and continued, "With Flint lying there staring at us."

That brought Draco up short and he turned to see the Petrified form of Flint watching everything they were doing. Smirking slightly, he walked over and nudged Flint with the toe of his boot, saying, "Enjoying the show?"

Harry stood back up, releasing a small, whinging breath as his jogging pants pressed against his cock. He clenched his teeth and breathed through the jarring mingle of pain and pleasure for a long, tense moment, willing his body to relax. When Draco turned and called his name, Harry looked across at him warily. 

"Am I right to understand," Draco voice could cut glass, "that your only objection is that Flint is watching?"

Harry gulped and nodded feebly. He was far too weak-willed where Draco was concerned, too easily ruled by his passions; apparently nothing had changed from his school days.

"Well, then." Draco smirked, fumbling for his wand and transfiguring a big blindfold from his handkerchief. After he'd put it on Flint, he sauntered back, pushing Harry once more against the wall and pressing their bodies flush to one another. "Does that help?"

Harry swallowed roughly, his eyes sliding closed as he gave in to the inevitable. "You'll be the death of me."

"Mmm, but what a way to go." 

Harry groaned around a chuckle and opened his eyes, moving toward Draco just as Draco leaned in toward him. Their lips met again, softer this time, more easy and sensual now that the first flush of discovery was behind them. 

Curiosity once again getting the better of him, Harry slid his hand down Draco's chest and past the waistband of his trousers. As soon as his fingers encountered the hard ridge of Draco's cock, however, he heard a distinct _thump_ from across the room. Pulling back from Draco reluctantly, Harry glanced over toward the Petrified and blindfolded Flint whose feet gave an odd twitch. 

"Okay, really, we have to do something about him."

Draco pressed his face to Harry's shoulder, muffling his frustrated shout. "You realise that my bollocks are going to shrivel up and fall off from all this," he waved his hand, " _coitus interruptus_ , yes?"

Harry snorted. "We weren't coitusing yet. Let's get Flint to the Ministry and then I'll be happy to give you a first hand account of how this is different from coitus."

Draco looked up at him through narrowed eyes. "Swear it."

Harry blinked. "Swear what?"

"That you aren't going to walk out of here with Flint and conveniently forget about your brief bout of… confusion."

Harry shook his head slowly. "I've never been less confused in my life."

Draco's doubt was clearly expressed by the snort he didn't bother holding back. "Pull the other one, Potter."

Harry smiled and said, "Not confused, I promise. Maybe a bit, ah, curious."

Draco tossed his head back and laughed freely, the sound ringing through the room for several long minutes until Harry rolled his eyes and shoved Draco aside to go place his own body bind on Flint and levitate him toward the Floo. Turning back to Draco, he tapped his foot impatiently and said, "Are you coming?"

"Not anytime soon, more's the pity," Draco drawled. 

Harry snorted and threw Floo powder into the fire, waiting until the leaping flames glowed green before he called out the address to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

~*~

Several hours later, Harry watched as Draco stood up from the industrial-looking chair he'd placed against the wall and strolled over to Harry, bracing one hand on the desk in front of him before he leaned over, placing his mouth close to Harry's ear. "Potter?"

The faint breath of sound whispered over Harry's ear and he could feel the tiny hairs on his neck stand up as a shiver coursed down his spine. He wondered vaguely if Draco knew how sensitive he was to him now and nearly smacked himself for it. This was Draco Malfoy, of the devilishly cunning Malfoy family. Narcissa had raised him. 

_Of course_ he knew what he was doing to Harry. 

Gathering the scattered remains of his composure, Harry straightened, taking his sensitive ear and neck out of the line of Draco's teasing breath and cleared his throat. Even still his voice broke a bit when he said, "Yes?"

"How long are they planning to keep us here? I… don't have many comfortable memories of this office."

Harry turned his head quickly, chagrined that he hadn't thought of what this must be like for Draco, coming back to the place he'd been chained to await transport to Azkaban; the place his wand had been taken from him. 

Harry turned back to the Auror taking his statement and conducted a whispered conversation for a brief moment, convincing him that Harry was ready to go home and collect a change of his own clothing. He'd felt like an idiot for sitting here all night without even a shirt. 

"That's fine, Mr Potter. As always, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement is grateful for your assistance." The man sounded as if he truly meant that, and Harry fought back a burst of irritation. He'd told the man, countless times, that it had been _Draco_ who had captured Marcus Flint, rescuing Harry in the process.

Harry decided not to waste his breath, however, and simply turned, gesturing to Draco as he started walking to the door.

"Mr Malfoy, you may stay. I have a few questions for you."

Harry stopped and slowly turned around. A red haze fell over his vision at the contempt the Auror hadn't bothered trying to hide. With measured steps, he returned to the desk, earning himself a startled look.

"Mr Potter? You're free to—"

"I've spoken in plain English, which I assumed to be your first language," Harry said tightly, the muscle in his jaw leaping as he clenched his teeth together. "Perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps your first language is Gobbledegook. Be that as it may, I have stated, several times and _for the record_ that Mr Malfoy is the person to whom the Ministry owes thanks for today's arrest."

Auror Edwards' face twisted into an ugly scowl and he opened his mouth to speak. Without thinking about the consequences, Harry cast a wordless Silencing Charm on the idiot. 

"I am not finished speaking, Auror Edwards," he hissed, not bothering to hide his fury. "I am happy to offer Pensieve evidence of Draco's activities today, of his _heroic_ activities that saved my life. Do you understand me, Auror Edwards? This man _saved my life_. Do you have any concept of how very fine a line you are walking in detaining him? I have been patient, Mr Malfoy has been patient. We have answered every question you could possibly have in connection with this case. You have your suspect in a holding cell; you have my sworn testimony, Mr Malfoy's testimony, and Flint's confession. Surely there is nothing else you could possibly need from us?"

Harry watched, satisfied, as Edwards' face went nearly purple with rage. The silence, however, remained unbroken.

"Nothing? You're quite positive? Very well, then."

Harry turned and walked out of the office, still trembling with rage and uncaring that Edwards remained Silenced. Someone else would surely be along to remove the hex before the day was out, though Harry hoped it wouldn't be any time soon. A hand on his shoulder stopped him and he whirled around, ready to deliver a scathing set-down to whomever it might be… only to find Draco standing there, a strange look on his face.

"Let's Floo," he said, his voice strained, as he gestured toward the row of Ministry fireplaces. 

"Give me a minute," Harry said, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath just as he felt Draco's hand squeeze his shoulder almost painfully. Harry flinched away, opening his eyes to glare at Draco. Draco, however, didn't seem to notice his ire and simply shook his head.

"Now. Besides, you don't want to let that prick know how much he got to you."

Harry held his breath for a moment before releasing it in an angry gust. "Not that there's much chance of that now, but you're right. Let's go."

Stepping toward the nearest grate, Harry collected a bit of Floo powder from a shallow dish levitating gently in the air at waist height and threw it into the flames, calling the address of his flat in a clear, hard voice. As he stepped into the Floo, a presence pressing against him let him know that Draco had come along for the ride. The extra passenger made the journey far bumpier than Harry was used to; when the swirling motion of the Floo slowed, he found himself falling out at his grate. 

Draco's hands on his waist were the only thing that stopped Harry from landing on his face. Instead, he was steadied for a moment before being bodily spun around, causing his vertiginous state to become far worse. His back hit the wall, his shoulder narrowly missing his fireplace mantel, and he was about to say something when firm lips pressed against his own.

The hours since they'd left Flint's house disappeared as if they'd never existed and Harry found himself moaning into Draco's mouth, hands rising to grip any part of the man kissing him so savagely in an attempt to steady both his mind and his body. It didn't work, of course. 

Harry grabbed handfuls of Draco's hair, trying to pull Draco closer to him. Draco, however, did not seem to understand Harry's driving need to have their bodies pressed closer than was truly possible. Harry's frustrated moan was lost in the ferocity of their kiss but Draco's chuckle was not. 

Draco's hands circled Harry's wrists and squeezed until his fingers loosened their hold on him, slipping free of his fine hair. He raised Harry's hands above his head, pushing them almost punishingly into the wall, causing Harry's elbow to knock into the same mantel his shoulder had missed so recently. Draco pulled away from the kiss, his teeth skimming down Harry's chin and sinking briefly into his throat. The incredible intensity of the moment washed over Harry and some part of him wondered at the sudden ferocity Draco was exhibiting. Whatever he'd done to deserve this level of passion, he wanted to know what it was so he could do it _again_.

Harry's breath was gusting in and out of him, his level of arousal spiking so high in such a short space of time that he felt as if the top of his head was about to blow off. "What…" he asked, shaking his head—though not forcefully enough to dislodge Draco from him. "What is this all about?"

"This is sex," Draco said, causing Harry to whinge in frustration when he pulled away to speak. "I realise you probably have never experienced it before, but do try to follow along." Draco's eyes were so bright, burning into Harry's as he leaned forward and nipped at his parted lips. "Not that it matters if you do. I'm fully aware of what _I'm_ doing, after all."

Harry groaned and jerked his hands out of Draco's grasp, bringing them down to hold Draco's head steady. He slanted his head and licked along Draco's lips, tasting himself there, the flavour of his skin, the slight salty tang of sweat. He placed his foot between Draco's and, with his last ounce of lucidity, spun them again, Draco's hair fanning out for a moment before tangling between them.

As soon as Draco's back hit the wall, Harry slid one thigh between Draco's and pressed his hip firmly against the hard flesh tenting the fabric of Draco's trousers. His own cock was nudging into the furrow between the top of Draco's thigh and his hip; it wasn't perfect, but it was friction. 

"Wrong answer," Harry said, pushing Draco's shirt up and licking lightly along his scar in belated apology for causing it. "You're all charged up right now. I want to know why."

Draco shrugged, face twisting in irritation as he tried to get Harry to move, to no avail. "It's nothing, Potter."

"It's not nothing. Tell me."

"You know how I feel about kisses for heroes," Draco said teasingly, rolling his hips so that Harry cried out, almost willing to forget the whole conversation and move straight on to whatever Draco had in mind. But the hint of pretence in Draco's voice made Harry stop again, pushing away to clear his mind.

"You were the hero today, not me." Harry looked at Draco, who dropped his gaze to Harry's chest, his hair falling forward to shield his face, licking his lips before he glanced up again, his eyes shuttered. "Tell me, Draco."

"Fucking hell, Potter. So it turned me on a bit when you got all beastly with that prick of an Auror. Are we done here, or what? Because if we're just going to stand around talking all night, I have better things to do."

Harry read the flush in Draco's cheeks and his complete avoidance of the topic. Draco hadn't been just 'a bit turned on.' It had been as if… as if, for the first time, someone had bothered to defend him. Harry closed his eyes, hiding his own reaction as he leaned forward, smoothing Draco's hair back and gently cupping his face as he pressed their mouths together; the kiss light and tender. For all of about five seconds.

The passion that had been driving them both overwhelmed them again then and they rode it fully this time, hands gripping flesh, tangling in hair, bodies moving against one another frantically. Draco's hands finally found Harry's hips, pulling and pushing against them until both men were crying out in each other's arms, riding along the razor's edge of the gut-tightening moments just prior to orgasm.

"Harry?"

Hermione's voice coming from the fireplace caused Harry to jump back from Draco as if burned.

Draco's eyes popped open, the look in them nearly murderous. Harry waved frantically at him and, looking around quickly, spotted a throw pillow lying on the floor. Grabbing it, he held it in front of himself before grabbing his wand off the mantel and kneeling in front of the Floo.

"This is not a good time, Hermione," Harry said, his voice strained. He was hard-pressed not to frot against the pillow at this point, so aroused was he.

Hermione shook her head, her face lined with worry. "Harry, God! I just heard what happened today and I—"

"Hermione, I will Floo over later. Right now is _not a good time_."

Hermione's eyes flared wide and she said, "Are you safe? Do I need to come through?"

Harry's shouted "No!" just barely managed to cover up Draco's. Rubbing a shaking hand over his forehead, Harry attempted to smile, wanting to set her at ease, but then… well, she'd always been an advocate for honesty. "No, Hermione, I'm fine. In fact, I'm so fine that I'm right in the middle of having sex—"

A snort from Draco nearly made him laugh.

"—and I'm going to have to ask you to be patient and wait until later. I'll be over in a few hours—"

"With _who_?!"

Harry froze.

A loud sigh precipitated the rough push that sent him sprawling on his side as Draco leaned over, his hair nearly falling into the fire, and said, "Goodbye, Granger. Give our best to the Weasel." And with that, Draco reached his hand in, pushing Hermione's face out of the flames before he pulled back and said, "Lock your Floo, Potter. I can't guarantee the continued health of anyone who interrupts us at this point and you just _know_ Granger won't be able to stop herself from calling you back. Or, God forbid, Weasley."

Harry choked on a laugh and waved his wand at the fireplace, hearing the tinkle of the Floo connection shutting down to all outside calls. As soon as that was accomplished, Harry lay back, propped on his elbows as he licked his lips, letting the pillow fall from his grasp to land next to his hip. 

Draco's hot gaze started at the top of his head and went all the way down to his feet before zeroing in on his erection again. "You have two seconds to remove your clothing and find a surface suitable for fucking."

Harry swallowed a whimper and just nodded, going flat to his back as he lifted his hips and pushed the sweatpants down his thighs. Sitting up, he yanked them from where they'd pooled around his ankles and then glanced at Draco. "I'm ready."

"That took almost five seconds, Potter. I do believe I'm going to have to make you wait now."

Harry scowled at him darkly and stood in one fluid movement. Grabbing Draco around the waist, he bent and lifted, tossing him over his shoulder, shivering when he felt Draco's hair swing forward against the backs of his thighs. "Fuck waiting. I'm the Wizard Who Lived, you know. I don't _have_ to wait." He stumbled through his flat under Draco's weight and fell against the wall when Draco smacked him on the arse.

"Stop believing your own press and find us a bed, Potter," Draco said, his voice oddly huffy as Harry's shoulder was pressed into his stomach. 

It was a good thing Harry had gone with a small flat because by the time he made it to his bedroom, his legs were shaking with the effort of carrying Draco that far. When he felt Draco's hands on his arse, tugging the cheeks apart, he tripped over nothing and fell onto the bed, dropping Draco awkwardly onto the pillows. 

As Harry sat there regaining his strength and breath, Draco rolled off the pillows and swung his leg over Harry's hips, straddling them and pressing down against Harry's back, his hair falling in a curtain around them. His breath stirred the tiny hairs behind Harry's ear before he said, "That was rather stupid, Potter. Now you're at my mercy."

Harry groaned and said, "Really? Did you all go to some evil overlord school? Because you don't know _how_ many times I've heard that. Usually from someone plotting to kill me, though, not fuck me. I have to say I really approve of your plans."

Draco smacked the top of his arse and said, "Shut up, Potter. You're ruining the mood."

Harry hissed but remained silent after that, bringing his arms up and folding them under his head, resting his forehead on them and rolling his head back and forth as Draco sucked kisses into his neck, his silky hair sliding over Harry's skin in his wake. Firm hands massaged his shoulders and down his sides as Draco's tongue swirled along his spine. 

Harry sighed and shifted his hips, reaching down to rearrange his cock where it was trapped between his body and the mattress. 

"Don't even think about touching yourself, Potter," Draco mumbled into his skin. 

Harry laughed breathlessly and said, "I'm not…really. I was just a bit uncomfffuck!"

Draco's chuckle was muffled by the mouthful of Harry's arse he was biting. Releasing the taut muscle with a long lick, Draco pushed off of Harry's legs and said, "Pull your knees under you."

Harry went still for a moment, his blood rushing through his veins as he whispered, "Now?"

Even though he hadn't qualified that, Draco seemed to understand. "Oh, no, not yet. I do recall telling you I was going to make you wait."

A few long seconds went by before Draco smoothed his hand over Harry's arse and said, "Do it, Potter. I promise I'll make you enjoy it. In fact, if you don't scream with pleasure in the next five minutes, I'll be very disappointed."

Harry snorted, assuming Draco was taking the piss, and wriggled around on the bed until his knees were drawn up under him. He was about to push up onto his hands when Draco applied pressure between his shoulder blades. "Stay there. Just like that. Perfect."

Harry turned his head to ask what Draco wanted him to do when he felt a bit of a… breeze against the crack of his arse. "Perfect," Draco whispered again as his hands pulled Harry even further apart. Harry stiffened just before he felt Draco's tongue swirl around the rim of his arse. Harry's shocked breath released on a whimper of confused pleasure when Draco did it again, though firmer this time. "Relax, Potter," Draco whispered, his lips rubbing against the wet, sensitive skin, his chin brushing lightly against the underside of Harry's balls.

Harry sucked in a short, whinging breath, trying not to laugh at Draco's admonishment. _Relax_? How was he supposed to do _that_?! Harry groaned, his arms going limp when Draco pushed his tongue firmly against Harry's rim, nudging through the opening and curling his tongue before sealing his mouth around it. Harry's eyes fluttered closed as he rocked slowly back against Draco's face, encouraging him with small noises, the sort he'd never made before.

Harry was floating, his body thrumming with pleasure as his mind emptied to everything but the sensations Draco was pulling from him when Draco's fingers slid over his tightly drawn balls. Harry's eyes flew back open as he choked on a gasp, surging up onto his hands as he keened, his hips thrusting down against Draco's hand, trying to urge him to move it just a bit. Draco pulled away from his arse, licking and kissing his way up to the base of Harry's spine as he slid his hand forward, flattening it out as he stroked lightly up the underside of Harry's cock.

"Shh," Draco whispered against his back, removing his hand completely from Harry's body and watching as Harry twisted on the bed, mindless with need. "Roll over." 

Harry groaned, his shoulders heaving as he fought to bring his body under control and finally, _finally_ was able to roll over onto his back. Once there, he stretched out, even his toes pointed toward the far wall as he closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing his heart rate. When he felt he could face Draco again without attacking him, he slowly opened his eyes… 

And nearly swallowed his tongue. Draco was straddling his thighs, one hand braced against Harry's chest as he reached behind himself with the other, his eyes closed, biting his lip as his hips flexed back and forth. His hair fell across his shoulder and Harry threaded his fingers through it momentarily before dropping his hand away. He let out a shaky breath and gripped Draco's hips, pulling gently until Draco opened his eyes and looked down, spearing Harry with the heat in them. 

"I just…ah…thought you might be more—" Draco chewed his lip again, his eyebrows drawing together for a brief moment before his expression cleared and he blinked rapidly. "Oh, mmm, you might be more comfortable if I… bottom."

Harry's hands spasmed on Draco's hips, likely leaving marks. A shiver ran through his whole body at the thought of Draco sliding down onto him. The very alien nature of this whole evening kept him on edge, made him at once impatient and nervous for the next step.

"Are you… should I…?" Harry shook his head fiercely, attempting to gather his scattered thoughts. 

"Relax, Potter. I told you I know what I'm doing."

"Yes, but the point is, I _don’t_ know what you're doing. Only that whatever it is, you look fucking sexy as hell and… I want you."

Draco went still above him for a moment before he shuddered, his head dropping forward, his hair falling around his face and pooling on Harry's chest. "I'm stretching myself," he whispered, his hand falling away from behind him.

"What?"

"We're not girls, Potter," Draco said, swinging his hair back behind him again, an irritated expression flitting over his face before he brought both hands up, gathering it in a fist at the base of his neck. 

Harry reached up, stroking the knuckles of Draco's hand and whispered, "Let it free. I… like it."

Draco stared at him for a moment before he nodded and released his hair, letting it rush down over his shoulders and tickle along Harry's chest again. Gooseflesh broke out along Harry's body and he sucked in a sharp breath as a lock of hair teased over his nipple. "I _really_ like it," he moaned.

Draco grabbed one of Harry's hands that was twisting the sheets beneath him and said, "Do you want to know what I was doing?"

Harry stared up at Draco for a long moment before he nodded slowly. "Yeah. I want to see if _I_ can make you look like that."

Draco's smile was slow, with a wicked edge that made Harry's breath catch. "Like I said, we aren't girls. We're better. Tighter. Hotter. _Tighter_."

Harry understood then, what Draco had meant when he said _stretching_. "Oh. Does it hurt?"

"The stretching?" Draco asked.

Harry nodded, running his tongue over his lip to wet the suddenly dry surface. "Yeah."

"Not if you do it right."

Harry balled his hand into a fist, pulling it away slightly in reaction. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Potter, honestly," Draco said, raising one eyebrow at Harry. "Do you really think I'd _let_ you hurt me? Or, at least, if I didn't want you to?"

Harry let the last part of that slide as he thought about this. "No. You wouldn't do that. You love your own arse too much."

Draco laughed, easing the atmosphere. "Exactly right, Potter. When we're done here, you will worship it, too."

Harry stuck his tongue out, prompting Draco to lean down and suck on it for a moment before he pushed back up and said, "Give me your fingers."

Harry frowned with concentration as he lifted his hand to Draco, relaxing it in his grip. Draco picked up his wand from the bed beside Harry and murmured a charm, smiling slightly when some slick fluid poured from the tip of his wand onto Harry's fingers. "It's a variation on the Aguamenti charm," Draco said, forestalling Harry's question.

"Does it work?" Harry asked, frowning at the greasy stuff.

"It's not what I'd normally use, as it's just oil, but it will work in a pinch."

"I have lube, you know."

"Dreadful Muggle stuff, no doubt."

Harry opened his mouth to argue when Draco shook his head. "Shut up, Potter. We'll argue about the merits of wizarding versus Muggle lube later. For now, there is sex to be had."

Harry's cock twitched at that and he groaned, pushing his head back against the mattress. "You're killing me."

"Rub your fingers together, Potter," Draco instructed quietly, staring down at Harry's hand. Harry swallowed hard and did as he was told, getting his fingers nicely coated in the fluid.

Draco grabbed his hand then, guiding it between his thighs as he leaned up, bracing himself against Harry's chest again as he looked into Harry's eyes. "Two fingers," he whispered, and Harry drew a steadying breath before tentatively searching out and then pressing against Draco's hole. 

He swallowed heavily when Draco's eyes fluttered closed, his face nearly blissful as he shifted his hips, bearing down on Harry's fingers, taking them fully into him. Harry gasped at feeling the strong muscles closing around his fingers, unable to even imagine how they would feel around his cock.

"Pump them," Draco said, his voice sounding squeezed out. Harry nodded even though Draco couldn't see him and pulled his fingers almost all the way out before sliding them up inside Draco again. They both sighed at that, causing Harry to chuckle nervously. 

"More," Draco said, pleading.

Harry pushed harder, more forcefully. "Like this?" He watched as Draco's Adam's apple bobbed frantically before Draco gasped.

"Yes, that, and… more fingers. Three now."

Harry frowned with concentration as he fumbled his fingers around, trying to do it in a way that wouldn't hurt Draco. The thought that he could give anything other than pleasure was a lowering one and Harry was determined to do this right. To make Draco enjoy it.

"God, Potter, stop thinking and just _do it_ ," Draco snapped. 

Harry looked up, surprised, and Draco took advantage of that, nearly sitting down on Harry's hand. Harry gulped as his three fingers were squeezed together, and remembering Draco's earlier plea, began to pump them. Draco tossed his head back, his hair swirling down onto Harry's groin, teasing his cock and balls. Harry gasped and thrust his hand up a bit harder than he'd intended, making Draco hiss and say, "Yesss, Potter, God, like that. Oh, fuck, I'm ready now, fuck, now…" 

Draco knelt up, grabbing Harry's wrist and slowly pulling his hand free of the tight grip of Draco's arse before he reached down and wrapped his hand around Harry's cock. Harry sat up, his stomach muscles bunching at the feeling of his cock encased in Draco's hand. He grabbed Draco's hips for leverage, his own hips surging upward into Draco's firm grasp.

"Stop, Potter. Fuck, hold still for a minute."

Harry whimpered but nodded, forcing himself to go stiff as Draco did the oil charm again, directing the flow from his wand directly onto Harry's cock. Harry hissed as it poured onto him, the oil feeling chilled as it slid over his cock. Draco rubbed it in slowly before shifting forward and pressing the head of Harry's cock to his hole, the heat of it calling to Harry.

Draco rolled his hips slightly and looked down into Harry's eyes as he slowly lowered himself, sliding inch by incredibly tight inch down over Harry's cock, his body such a hot, _tight_ squeeze that Harry wasn't certain he'd be able to breathe. He pounded one fist into the bed as he arched his back, trying not to slam up into Draco but using every last bit of his control to hold back.

"Harry." Draco's voice was choked, causing Harry to open his eyes quickly, looking up at Draco as he rode the rest of the way down Harry's cock. Draco's eyes were closed, his face scrunched up in what looked like pain.

"Draco," Harry said, his hands pressing against Draco's hips, trying to unseat him, afraid he was hurting him.

"Oh God, Harry, wait. I just… let me… fuck. Perfect." Draco's breathing hitched and he slowly, so slowly, relaxed. He arched his back then, slowly rolling his hips against Harry's and said, "Touch me."

Harry groaned and nodded, reaching up to slide his hands along Draco's thighs, rubbing his fingers over the jut of his hipbones, and then, unable to resist, wrapped his hand around Draco's cock. Draco hissed, raising one hand to his head, grabbing up a fistful and tugging on it harshly as he whispered instructions to Harry. _Tighter. Faster._

Draco, who had merely been rolling his hips against Harry's lap, began lifting up and slamming down, forcing shouts from Harry, whose hand spasmed around Draco's cock on every downward thrust. "God, Draco! God!" Harry shouted, grunting as he began to thrust his hips up to meet Draco's.

Draco slammed down again, his other hand wrapping around Harry's on his cock, speeding the timing of his pulls and Draco curled around their joined fists, untangling his hand from his hair to slap it down on Harry's chest, digging his fingers in as his cock started pulsing, ropy strands of come bursting from the tip as his arse clenched rhythmically around Harry.

Harry's back arched at feeling that and the orgasm that had been building in his balls released then, shooting up his cock. Harry shouted, thrusting up, one hand digging into Draco's hip to hold him flush against Harry's groin as he pushed up and up.

"Oh God," Harry groaned, his vision spotty as his breath rushed in and out of his lungs. He couldn't remember the last time sex had been that intense—he ignored the fact that it never _had_ been—and while on the one hand he wanted to do it again right away there was the small worry that he might have broken everything inside himself.

Draco slumped down against Harry's chest, breathing heavily, his hair sticking to himself and Harry in a tangled mess. Harry reached up shakily and smoothed a hand over it, running his fingers through the snarls gently. Draco murmured sleepily and shifted his hips, allowing Harry's softening cock to slip from his arse. 

Lifting his head, Draco slowly opened his eyes and said, "If one of us doesn't do a cleaning spell, we'll be glued together in the morning."

Harry chuckled tiredly and said, "Am I supposed to mind that?"

Draco pulled a face and fumbled around the bed for his wand, using it to clean them and the bed before he tossed the length of Hawthorn over the edge of the bed and fell face-first into a pillow. Harry smiled and turned on his side, wincing as his own wand dug into his side. He pulled it out and used it to Summon a blanket, covering the two of them before dimming the lights and tossing his wand toward Draco's. 

Reaching over, he wound a strand of Draco's hair around his finger just before his eyes slid closed. 

_I'll just relax for a moment and then I'll go Fire call Hermione…_

~*~

A light, quick rapping on his door slowly pulled Harry from a very sound sleep and he rolled over, groaning. "How the fuck is it morning already?" he grumbled to himself.

Unused to having anyone else in his bed, he nearly fell out of it when an equally irritated voice responded, "Someone decided we should have them every day. Go answer the fucking door before Mother decides you're in danger and rushes in here like a fucking Gryffindor."

"Draco?" Harry sat up and looked over, his eyes widening as he recalled the night before. Relaxing slightly, he smiled shyly and said, "Sorry. I'm, umm, not used to—"

"We'll discuss the appalling state of your sex life later, Potter. God, go stop that woman. Now, please. I'd hate to have to commit matricide so soon after getting _out_ of Azkaban."

Harry chuckled and sat up, stretching as he tried to remember where he'd left his jogging pants the previous night. A dim memory of quickly stripping them off in front of the Floo surfaced and he padded slowly out there, scratching various itchy body parts. Grabbing the pants, he pulled them on, hopping from foot to foot, then moved toward his front door. Checking the peep-hole, he saw Narcissa Malfoy. "I should have known," he whispered, shaking his head. 

Unbolting the door, he opened it to Narcissa and hesitated slightly before he stepped back and gestured her inside. 

Her lips lifted in the hint of a smile before she said, "Oh, I don't think so, Harry. Thank you, though. I just wanted to stop by to tell you that you've successfully discharged your duty. The Malfoy name is now restored."

A sick feeling unwound within him as he heard her words. What did this mean? Was Draco going to get up and leave now and… Harry drew a deep breath, refusing to allow such dark thoughts to find fertile ground. 

"What about the Black name?" he asked.

Narcissa thrust a newspaper at him and said, "You healed the rift in the Black family months ago, Harry. Let's not be coy. You've done well. I… would like to thank you."

Harry took the newspaper, glancing at the headlines screaming out yesterday's news, and looked back up at her, saying, "I would have done it without you calling on the life debt."

Narcissa's smile this time actually dimpled her cheeks. "I realise that, Mr Potter. You are entirely too honourable. But I couldn't have asked you to do so in good conscience without giving you something in return. You are free of all debts to the Malfoys." She reached out and clasped his wrist warmly before turning away.

"Erm, Narcissa?"

She turned back to him.

"Do you… I mean, will I…" Harry floundered, not certain how to say what he wanted.

Narcissa arched an eyebrow and merely said, "Tell my son I said good morning when he is awake enough to hear it. Matricide, indeed." She gave a delicate snort, cut off when Harry shook his head.

"No, I… hmm, what I wanted to ask was, yesterday? Was that… was that _you_?"

Narcissa stared at Harry for a long moment before releasing a soft sigh. "No, Mr Potter. My own plan was exactly what I told you. You simply have rather horrid luck with vengeful, would-be Dark Wizards." At Harry's continuing silence, she added, "If I wanted to harm you, Harry, I would not have worked quite so diligently to bring you and Draco together. While that Flint boy apparently sped things along nicely on that front," she gave his finger-tangled hair a pointed look, "I would never have put you or Draco in a situation that I could not control."

Harry just looked at her, mouth agape at this revelation. "You… you _wanted_ me and Draco to…"

Narcissa lifted her eyebrows slightly, blinking innocently before turning and Disapparating with a _crack_.

Harry stood, staring stupidly at the spot she'd been standing for a long minute before he shook himself and turned to go back inside. He drew up short when he saw Draco standing there, a sheet wrapped around himself as he glared at Harry sleepily. 

_Oh, fuck, he heard us--_

"Are you planning to stand out there all day, or are you coming back to bed?"

Harry blinked, then smiled. "Your mother said to tell you good morning."

"Fuck that. I refuse to believe that it's morning." Draco turned and stomped down the hall. By the time Harry made it to the doorway of his bedroom, Draco was curled up in a ball in the very centre of his bed, having buried himself under Harry's blankets.

"Draco?"

"Whaaaaaaaaaaat?"

"How did you know it was your mother?"

"She always knocks like that. It's annoying as fuck."

Harry pressed his lips together, trying to hide a smile Draco couldn't possibly see from under five layers of bedding material. "Draco?"

"Oh my God, Potter, shut the fuck up. And get in here, I'm cold!"

Harry did smile then. "You're sexy when you're angry."

"You're about to have a long-distance orgasm then, Potter. Because you're seriously beginning to piss me off."

Harry laughed and crawled onto the bed, pulling on various bits of sheet until he uncovered Draco enough to stretch out next to him. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

Draco grumbled and wriggled around a bit before his whole body relaxed against Harry. 

Harry was just drifting off to sleep when he heard, "You'd better not ever come to bed with clothes on again, Potter."

Harry groaned and said, "Shut up, Draco. You can yell at me in the morning."

~*~The End~*~


End file.
